Family Can Be Found In Unexpected Places
by Hamsta97
Summary: Fury has taken the gamble of his career on an archer and a group of young black ops specialists with problems. But he's got other problems. A terrorist network is unfolding and threatening to burn the world to the ground. Can the team stop them or will they fall? Sucky summary, better story. Read and review!
1. The Meet

**A/N: So here it is. My new story! I have taken a hiatus on 'Alpha Strike Team' but it will be updated as soon as I can convince my brain to stop being a dick. As always, read and review! Oh, and Natasha was recruited before Clint in this.**

Natasha walked into the bar and glanced around. She was here on a mission for SHIELD, to buy weapons off a man known only as Hawkeye. He was a feared assassin and SHIELD either wanted to recruit him or kill him. They weren't sure yet. So they'd sent Natasha to meet him and find out more about him. Oh, and see how good his weapons were which would give them an indication of how well-connected he was.

So here she was, in a grimy little bar in Budapest looking around to find a killer. She'd already spotted two men that weren't him but possibly working for Hawkeye. One of them was sat at the bar, sipping a bottle of beer with a poorly-disguised gun at his side. The other man was sat at a table on his own, drinking a bottle of vodka. He stood out because he was glancing around and showed no signs of being drunk. So Natasha ordered a beer and took a seat at a booth facing the door.

"Fucking bastards!" roared a drunk outside.

Well quite. At that minute the door to the bar opened and Natasha looked up. The man weaved his way through the bar and headed straight to the booth Natasha was sat at.

"Black Widow?"

"Hawkeye?"

The man sat down and flashed Natasha a brief smile. Her first thought was '_How young is he?!'_ Her second thought was '_How hot is he?!_' But she pushed both thoughts down because she was the Black Widow and nothing was allowed to surprise her. So she said nothing. But he was younger than she expected. He only looked about eighteen with spiked brown hair and blue-grey eyes. A long scar ran across his throat and he had one on his hand.

"You sent two men in ahead of you. How did you know it was safe to come in?"

"The bar wasn't on fire."

Honest enough. Natasha narrowed her eyes. She was only twenty herself but how exactly did an eighteen-year-old command the respect of the two obviously experienced men in the bar?

"You seem to have a lot of protection."

Hawkeye laughed. "When you play my game, you tend to."

"And what game is that?"

"Both sides. So what do you need?"

Natasha sat back. "A five-man team is storming an embassy. I need enough firepower to get in and out unscathed. What do you suggest?"

Hawkeye ran a hand through his hair. "Off the top of my head? A fast car, RPGS, Uzis, pumped-up shotguns, knives for close combat and a sniper perched on the roof keeping your escape route clear."

"Then get me those."

"No problem. You know the Underground Club?"

"Yes."

"Meet me there the day after tomorrow at 2100 hours. The merchandise will be round the back."

"See you there then."

She got up and left. One of the men leaned forwards but a subtle hand signal from his boss caused him to lean back and relax slightly. Natasha slipped out of the door and headed up to the flat she was staying in with her handler. A dozen other agents were getting ready to arrest Hawkeye and his team.

"How did it go?" asked Phil Coulson.

"Not bad. The day after tomorrow, 2100 hours at the Underground Club. He'll have the stuff."

"What did you ask for?"

Natasha sat down in a chair. "I told him I had a five-man team getting in and out of an embassy and said I needed firepower. I asked what he thought I needed."

"And he said…" prompted Coulson.

"A fast car, RPGS, Uzis, pumped-up shotguns, knives and a sniper keeping the escape clear."

That appeared to impress him. "He seems to know a lot."

"Mm. He said he played both sides, called it a game. He's younger than you'd think as well."

_On the other side of town…_

"Look man, I'm just saying, I don't trust her. But I would bang her."

"Adie, when I want your whiny-ass opinion, I'll ask for it. Got it?"

"Chill man. I'm just saying."

"Yeah, you said that."

"Well I'm saying that again."

"Luke, punch him."

"OW!"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: ::::::::

Natasha stood outside the Underground Club and waited. A guy strode over to her.

"Hey baby. How's about you and me go somewhere quiet?"

"I'm waiting for a friend."

"Not anymore."

As the drunk was about to put his hand on her arm a cold voice said, "The lady said to back off pal."

The drunk turned. "Fuck off kid, this is grown-up stuff."

Then the drunk was lying on the floor, bleeding from a broken nose. Hawkeye glanced down at him dispassionately.

"I don't need saving."

"I never said you did. Drunken Americans give other Americans a bad name. The gear's this way."

Hawkeye led the way round the back of the club to an alley. A sports car was parked in the alley. He walked over and opened the trunk. Natasha looked in and raised her eyebrows. The trunk had five RPGs, a box of knives, another box of Uzis and a box of shotguns. The sniper rifle was laid out across the top of the boxes.

"I'm impressed."

"The car's a Nissan GTR. Top speed's 155mph and you get 0-60 in 5.1 seconds. Figured you'd need something that blends in but can still move pretty quick. If you were a regular I'd've made it quicker."

"How much will it be?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "Tell your guy to come out of hiding first."

"Phil." called Natasha. "We're good."

Coulson appeared and stood, in his suit, watching Hawkeye. The younger man appeared unbothered, clicking his fingers. One of the men Natasha had seen in the bar appeared. He was big and muscled and carried himself like a soldier. Hawkeye gave an order in a foreign language. The man nodded and walked off.

"Where's he gone?"

"He's watching for the police. They don't tend to take too kindly to selling commodities like these."

Coulson walked over and raised an eyebrow. "Not bad. How much did you say?"

Hawkeye smiled. "I didn't. But, five grand for the car, three grand for the RPGs, six grand for the shotguns and two grand for the Uzis. The knives I'll throw in free. A promotional offer."

Coulson nodded. "That's very reasonable. All agents move in now."

Hawkeye swore. "Oh shit."

The agents appeared on the alleys, automatic weapons aimed downwards. Hawkeye glowered at Natasha.

"You're a real bitch."

He held his hands up and as Coulson moved forwards he threw the car keys at him. Coulson stumbled backwards, his nose bleeding.

"GUYS!"

Then the rooftops were suddenly filled with men bearing weapons. Hawkeye gave a loud yell and suddenly the night was alive with gunfire, fighting and swearing. Natasha fired a shot at him but he deflected it with a knife. The agents didn't stand a chance. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Police sirens sounded and a black man dived into the car. Someone else slammed the trunk shut and the car took off. Hawkeye hadn't been exaggerating when he talked about its speed. It sped off through the night and Hawkeye's men scrambled up fire escapes and through other alleys.

"Oh hell." muttered Coulson.

It took them four hours to sort things out with the local police. Then they were called into a meeting with Director Fury.

"What the hell happened?" he barked.

Natasha replied, "We were outmanned and outgunned. There were twelve of us and twenty of them."

Fury sighed. "How old did you say Hawkeye was?"

"Eighteen I'd say sir." Coulson answered.

"I'll have to tell the Council."

Fury watched the two of them leave and sighed. He'd wanted to recruit Hawkeye for his skills, for his connections but most of all for the fact that he already ran a team and that was what Fury wanted him for. _Goddamn it._


	2. Arrest

Clint woke up in a shabby hotel room in Budapest. He and half his team were back in the godforsaken city a year after he'd met the Black Widow. Aidan was crashed out in a chair next to him. Clint huffed a laugh and sat up. The idiot was supposed to be taking care of him after he got shot in the thigh.

"You're a wonderful nursemaid."

Aidan bolted awake and looked around. His face relaxed into a grin.

"Whatever. You're alive aren't you?"

"No thanks to you."

Aidan rolled his eyes and got to his feet. "Are you alright to walk?"

"Course I am."

Clint got to his feet and walked out of the room. He hated Budapest. It was the only place he'd ever been betrayed, ever not sensed an agent of some kind.

"Do you still think about that girl?"

"Leave it Adie."

"She was hot, though, wasn't she? I mean damn! I only saw her during the fight but…"

"Ade!"

Aidan fell silent. Even he knew better than to push Clint.

"When's the meet with the Frog?"

"Tonight, eight."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Clint leaned against the wall and watched as the black armoured SUV crawled into the alley. He waited until three men, all carrying big guns, got out and arranged themselves so they were facing Clint. Then La Grenouille himself got out.

"Ah, I was wondering when I would meet the _Falcon_ himself."

Clint gave Grenouille a smile as fake as the one Grenouille was giving him.

"I always like to be present at my business dealing." he replied in flawless French.

Sometimes it was nice to surprise the clients. The Frogs all blinked and tightened their grips on their weapons.

"Do you want to see the merchandise?"

"Certainement."

Clint popped the trunk of the Jeep he was using.

"Everything you wanted. The payment?"

La Grenouille barked an order at one man. He reached into the car and handed over a briefcase. Clint opened the case and checked all the diamonds were there. Diamonds were the only payment he accepted with his regulars, it was the only currency stable enough for him. Then Clint's cell phone went.

"What?"

"There's a dozen cop cars, start shooting!" a frantic voice barked.

Clint didn't question it, especially when he heard the gunshots on the other end.

"Police are coming now. Get your men ready to shoot!" Clint ordered.

Grenouille frowned but then Clint's men appeared. The Frogs whirled to shoot them but then the cop cars appeared. Clint grabbed one of the shotguns and fired into the mass of cars. Several blew up.

"Not the way I'd originally intended to demonstrate the merchandise."

Grenouille chuckled. The firefight continued but, in the confusion, someone managed to get behind Clint and drop him. As Clint fought to get away, he could see his men dropping like flies. Aidan was lying on the floor, dead or unconscious.

"NO!"

Grenouille went down somewhere near Clint. Then everything turned to blackness.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: :::::::::::::

"Sir, can I come in?"

Fury glanced up to see Natasha Romanoff looking round his door.

"What is it Agent Romanoff?"

She stepped into his office. "Hawkeye and one of his men were arrested by the Hungarian police. He was in the middle of an arms deal with La Grenouille when they were ambushed. The rest of his men were killed as were the French."

"I see. What's going to happen to him?"

"He's been arrested and put in a Budapest prison. There's a lot of suspicion that he'll be extradited back to the US when he's found guilty."

"I see. And his man?"

"Unsure. The rumour is he'll go to a different prison."

"Keep me updated."

"Yes sir."


	3. Texas

**Sorry, sorry, sorry! Somehow this got deleted and I don't know how! **

Clint stood next to the prison guards and waited. After a year in a Hungarian prison he'd been extradited to the US and stuck in a Texas hellhole. And now, well now he was going to be executed.

"D-dead m-man…" stuttered the guard.

"Yeah, yeah we get the idea." snapped Clint. "Jeez."

"W-walking." finished the guard, giving Clint a dirty look.

Clint straightened his shoulders and began to walk down the corridor.

"_Did you write the book of love/And do you have faith in God above/If the Bible tells you so?"_

A few inmates cheered.

"Go on Barton!"

"Sing it out baby!"

So Clint obliged. "_Do you believe in rock'n'roll?"_ Here he stuck two fingers up at an inmate who laughed and returned the gesture. _"Can music save your mortal soul/Will you teach me how to dance real slow?"_

He pressed up against the warden and got roughly pulled away. An inmate laughed. Clint smirked and began to swagger down the corridor.

"_Well, I know that you're in love with him/Cause I saw you dancing in the gym/You both kicked off your shoes/Man, I dig those rhythm and blues!_"

They were in the room now. Clint lunged at the executioner to freak him out and continued singing.

"_I was a lonely teenage broncin buck/With a pink carnation and a pick-up truck/But I knew I was outta luck/The day the music died."_

The guards unchained him and strapped him to the table. He turned his head to face the watchers, the families of the prisoners and guards he'd killed and grinned at them. Remorse was overrated.

"_We were singing bye-bye Miss American Pie/Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry/Them good old boys are drinking whisky and rye/Singing 'This'll be the day that I die',_" his voice faltered on the last line as he finished, "_this'll be the day that I die."_

The needle was pushed into his vein and Clint waited. But the phone rang. The guard picked it up.

"Sir, but… I see sir. Yes sir, immediately sir." There was a click as the phone was hung up. "Get him up. He's been saved."

Clint got to his feet and watched as the guards put the chains back on his wrists and linked it to round his waist. The leg irons went back on and Clint made his slow progress back to his cell. He didn't ask about the save and didn't talk. The other inmates yelled out questions but they were ignored. Clint has his chains taken off him and the cell door was locked. Clint sat on the hard bed and leaned against the wall.

"Yo Barton, how did you get out of it?" hissed a nearby inmate.

"Eleventh hour saviour." said Clint tersely.

His mind was running through who it could be. The first crazy thought was that Aidan had got out of prison and pulled strings. But he dismissed that. Not even Aidan, with all his wild ideas could get out of prison with his record. Clint mentally checked members of his organisation off his list leaving only two. Joe or Nicky. Both were skilled enough to have avoided being arrested three years ago and it was possible they'd been working on pulling strings. _I'm being stupid. Someone else is doing this. Those two would have blown the goddamn prison up._ Then he heard catcalls from the prisoners.

"26511." said a cold female voice.

_I know that voice_. Clint's head shot up to see Black Widow. She looked older, obviously, with jaw-length red hair. Her green eyes were still as piercing as they had been in Budapest.

"My name's Hawkeye."

Black Widow smirked. "You've been rescued."

"By SHIELD? Go to hell. I'll meet you there."

"You'll be able to use your skills."

Clint sat up and did something he hadn't done for three years. He threw himself into her mind. He sifted through rapidly and found a meeting with a black bald man with an eyepatch.

_~Flashback~_

_Black Widow sat opposite the man in his office. The man leaned back in his chair._

"_Sir, I don't understand why you want to recruit Hawkeye."_

_The man smirked. "You have no idea Romanoff? He's twenty-one and ran an international arms ring. He'd make a perfect black ops agent. Leader of a team."_

"_A team." said Romanoff flatly. "You really want him leading a team?"_

"_Yes I do. He can even choose his teammates. Personally, I think it'd be a waste if he was to be executed. And of course, you'll be on his team, keeping him in check."_

_Romanoff snorted. "That could be harder than you think. Remember, I met him in Budapest."_

_The man laughed. "Of course. And he seemed to make quite an impression on you."_

_~End flashback~_

Clint pulled himself out her mind. In other people's minds he could feel their emotions. The man had hit home when he'd said those last words.

"So, you want me to lead a black ops team, Romanoff."

She looked more startled at his use of her last name than his guess of what SHIELD wanted.

"How did you…"

Clint got to his feet. "Where's your car?"

Romanoff nodded. "This way. Don't bother with the shackles."

The two of them headed to the reception desk and Romanoff collected Clint's box of personal items. They headed out to the car, a black SUV, and Clint slid into the passenger seat. Romanoff opened the box.

"Why me?" asked Clint. "Why does your boss want me so bad? And I don't believe it's because he thinks it's a waste for me to die."

Natasha glanced over at him. There was something strange about Barton. He knew things he shouldn't have been able to.

"How do you know all this?"

Barton shrugged. "I can go into people's heads. I can see thoughts, find memories, make people see and do whatever I want. But I don't use it much."

"Why not?" asked Natasha. "It sounds like a useful ability."

Barton's eyes flashed. "Give me my box."

Natasha opened it instead and looked inside. There were only two things in it. There was a silver eagle with sapphires for eyes attached to a heavy silver chain and a photograph. It was worn and faded, obviously a few years old, of two boys grinning broadly. They were identical apart from the fact that one had a missing tooth.

"Is this all you have?"

"Yes."

Natasha gave him the box and they drove on in silence. Barton was resting his head against the window, staring out into space. Natasha contemplated asking him about his power but something held her back. They got out at an airfield and onto a jet. Fury was sat there, looking intimidating.

"So this is Hawkeye."

Clint glanced at the man and contemplated checking his thoughts. But the man was well-shielded, no pun intended, and Clint wasn't sure he wanted to push himself any further. The last time he'd overreached himself… well he didn't want to think about that.

"I'm Director Fury."

"Clint Barton."

"Please sit down."

Clint lowered himself into a chair and waited for one of them to speak. Romanoff sat down next to him and began cleaning her gun. Clint checked out the jet. It was nice, like everything he'd seen on movies. There were white leather chairs with tables and a mini-bar.

"Do you want a drink?" asked Fury.

"I don't drink." replied Clint.

They both looked a little surprised at that. The plane took off and when it was travelling horizontally Fury poured himself a drink. Clint wondered how many swear words Aidan would have fit in at seeing the jet. Then they hit turbulence.

"Great." muttered Fury.

Natasha smirked. Then Fury's drink, which he'd placed on the table, flew off. Then it froze. The amber liquid went back into the glass and the glass set itself back on the table. Fury picked it up and Natasha turned to Barton. His face hadn't changed but she noticed him relax his hand.

"It seems you're more skilled than you let on." said Fury drily.

Barton looked unbothered. "Never reveal your full skills until you know who the enemy is."

Fury nodded. "Wise words. But we're not your enemy. We want…"

Barton waved a hand. "To recruit me. Yeah I saw." Fury gave him a hard look, "I found a memory in Romanoff's mind. And it was hard enough to find that."

Fury leaned forwards. Barton certainly was interesting.

"Why don't you use it more often?"

Barton narrowed his eyes as if he was searching for something. Then he relaxed slightly though his face had paled slightly.

"Because if I… ah what the fuck was that word? Telly something I think."

"Telepathic." supplied Romanoff. "Telepathic is reading minds. Telekinetic is moving things with your mind. Teleporting is moving to a different location."

Clint gave her a fleeting smile, which she ignored. "Thanks. Yeah, if I use my telepathic powers too much I… bad stuff happens."

Clint silently prayed they wouldn't ask him to elaborate but of course Fury did. He didn't particularly want to think about the last time.

"I… I sorta black out. I mean, I'm still awake but I can't see anything. The world goes black but I can hear things. People's thoughts, memories. It all floods and I can't get out."

"How long do these episodes last?"

"Twenty minutes, half an hour. And it hurts sir. It's like someone's trying to slice my skull in half."

Fury absorbed this information. "And your telekinesis? Does that affect it?"

Clint shook his head. "TK's got no side-effects."

The plane eventually landed and Clint got off.

"Welcome to the Helicarrier." said Fury.

Clint laughed. "Holy shit."

"Thank you. Come with me. We'll talk more about your team in my office."


	4. Helicarrier

Clint was fast asleep when someone knocked on his door the next morning. He'd had an exhausting conversation with Fury, raking over exactly why he'd dropped out of school at fourteen, Aidan's new friend that had recruited them into a gang which had led to the ring and finally he'd gone over the car crash. Like Clint needed a reminder. The person knocked again and Clint pushed himself to his feet. He was still in his prison scrubs and wondered if he'd get new clothes at some point.

"Come in."

The door pushed open to reveal Romanoff with clothes.

"This is your uniform. Director Fury says Agent Sitwell is ready to look through files with you but go down to the lab first to see if they can sort your… little problem."

"You mean my psychotic episodes?"

"Yes."

She threw his uniform at him and stepped outside. Clint clambered into it, really skin-tight?! And then he stepped outside. Romanoff gave him a brief glance.

"Nice tattoos."

Clint glanced down distractedly. His scrubs had covered them when she'd collected him. There was the yellow eye on his left upper arm, the storm cloud on his right upper arm, the Anubis figure on his right inner forearm and the snake that coiled round his left forearm.

"Yeah well, prison does that to you."

She arched an eyebrow and walked off.

"Fury already put in a request to create a bow for you."

"Awesome. So you're gonna be on my team?"

"Yes."

"That's cool."

Romanoff didn't reply. Clint rolled his eyes at her back. The lab was white and sleek. The female doctor ordered Clint onto the table and to take his shirt. Grudgingly he did so, not particularly wanting to show his scars. His father had left his mark more than the goddamn arms deals.

"Alright, I'm just going to take some of your blood and see what I can. We should have a prototype ready soon."

"Yay."

Barton's voice seemed to drip with sarcasm. Natasha was too busy assessing his scars. He had a long ugly one between his nipples, a slash mark across his stomach, a healed bullet wound above his heart and a jagged one at the base of his throat, where it was normally covered by a T-shirt.

"Like what you see?"

Natasha glared at him. The doctor drew the blood and walked off to start testing it. Barton got to his feet and turned his back on Natasha. His back was also scarred, two long lines coming from each shoulder blade down to the top of his pants, a bullet wound just below his heart and a jagged mark across the base of his back. Then the shirt was pulled on and they disappeared from view.

"Right, where next?"

"This way."

Natasha led him down to the Bridge where Sitwell was sat typing. He turned and smiled at Barton.

"Hi, Agent Barton right?"

Barton gave a brief nod and sat in the chair next to Jasper. Romanoff was about to leave when Barton called her back.

"Where are you going? These guys are gonna be on your team. You have to know them."

Romanoff reluctantly dragged out a chair. Jasper hid his smirk and turned to the computer.

"Anyone particular you want me to look for?"

"Yeah, Aidan Barton. Aidan with an 'A' not an 'E'."

Jasper tapped the keyboard and a mugshot appeared. The man, well teenager, was smirking as he held up a sign. He was identical to Clint in every way but one. His hair was shaggy and hung to just past his ears.

"Yep, that's him." said Clint happily.

Jasper had a quick check of Aidan's criminal record. It was… extensive. There had been three stints in juvenile prison for carjacking, assault with a deadly weapon and possession of narcotics. There was also warrants out for his arrest in Russia, Spain, Italy, South Africa and Norway of all places. They mostly consisted of the same things, arms dealing, drug smuggling, two assassinations and three GBHs. He was certainly qualified for the job.

"I'll head out there tomorrow morning." said Natasha.

Clint nodded. "Alright, what about Joe Howlett? That's a double 'T' by the way. And he might come up as Joseph."

Jasper typed away and came up with him. He was tall, broad-shouldered, hazel-eyed, brown-haired, straight-faced and glaring at the camera. He was currently in prison in England on charges of five assassinations, three charges of arms dealing, two of drug dealing and one of car theft.

"He only stole one car, huh?" asked Romanoff in a voice heavy with irony.

"Yeah the one I was gonna sell you." said Clint easily. "We sold it three months later for $10,000 worth in diamonds."

"Diamonds?" asked Jasper.

Clint nodded. "Only currency we trusted. Pull up his sister."

Jasper checked the list of relatives and found one hit: Nicky Howlett. Opening that link showed a smaller, slender woman with hazel eyes and long brown hair. She was also in a prison but this time in Russia, and for six assassinations, ten of car theft and one count of arms dealing.

"Different skill set to her brother."

Clint shrugged. "They were in my ring. Took us about six months to understand them. Broadest Manchurian accents I ever heard. But brilliant at what they do."

"And Aidan? What's so good about him?" asked Romanoff.

Clint glanced at her coolly. "He's my twin. And he's amazing. That guy can do anything with a bladed weapon."

Natasha watched as he narrowed his eyes and murmured under his breath.

"Got it! Conan O'Malley. Heard about him from a friend of Adie's. He er… he used a crossbow, worked for the IRA, born and raised in the backstreets of Dublin. I don't know if he's still working for them or not."

Jasper tapped in the information and came up with a hit. It turned out Conan O'Malley had been arrested in a raid five years ago along with five other IRA members. At his trial he had been found guilty of assassinating twenty people, killing three police officers and five counts of GBH.

"Him as well. See if he has any family in prison."

Natasha asked, "What is your fixation with family?"

Barton replied without turning round. "You give them something to sweeten the deal, they work harder. Plus, closer bond, means they're more willing to fight."

OK, Natasha conceded, Barton was a clever guy. He was sarcastic and a pain in the ass but he was smart. Sitwell turned round.

"Younger brother, arrested in the same raid. Name's Cian O'Malley. An even longer list of convictions than his brother. According to this he was responsible for the bomb at the US embassy."

Natasha frowned. "The one that took out the building's mainframe?"

"Yep. But that's not all. Twenty bombs of varying impact, killed five officers during the raid, five of GBH, all committed with his brother and then he's had three stints in juvenile. One for carjacking, one for possessing a firearm and one for assault with a deadly weapon."

"You really know how to pick them don't you?" asked Natasha drily.

Barton retorted, "Yeah 'cos _you're_ the picture of sanity."

Jasper hid his smirk again as Romanoff glared daggers at Barton who returned with a sunny smile.

"Is there anyone SHIELD has an interest in? For recruiting?"

Jasper pulled up the list and Barton scrolled down until he found one.

"That one."

Jasper opened it up. It was a nineteen-year-old boy, found guilty of assault and given a suspended sentence.

"He beat up his brother."

Clint frowned. "Nah. He attacked his older brother. And he didn't lay a hand on the younger one but they still found marks on him. Marks… The older brother hit the younger one and probably this guy. So he learned how to defend himself."

"You got all that from one assault charge?"

"I'm good at reading people. I want him."

Romanoff sighed. "What's his name?"

"Grant Ward."


	5. Settling In

**Thank you guys so much for the reviews! They mean a lot! Virtual cookies to every reviewers!**

Clint lounged against the railing of the Bridge, aiming with his bow. Apparently the techs were very proud and had even arranged for a mechanical quiver with different arrows. There was also a special strap for his bow. He was also very impressed. Coulson had appeared and been introduced as his team's handler.

"So, when do they get here?" asked Clint.

Coulson rolled his eyes. "ETA is ten minutes."

Clint grunted and glanced over at one of the female agents. His uniform was actually surprisingly comfy and he'd thrown his scrubs into one of the engines when the Helicarrier was airborne. It was pretty cool. Clint wondered idly if he could design his own arrowheads. Ten minutes passed incredibly slowly and then Romanoff appeared in the doorway. Clint stood up straight.

"Are they here?"

"All of them." replied Romanoff dispassionately and stepped to the side.

And then Aidan appeared. Before Clint could move Aidan was right in front of Clint, wrapping his arms around his older twin so tightly Clint could swear he could hear his ribs creaking. Aidan had also buried his face in Clint's shoulder.

"I missed you."

Clint smiled into Aidan's hair. "Yeah, I missed you too."

Then he pulled back and began to examine his twin. Aidan's hair was still too long, falling into his eyes and the lines in his face had deepened slightly. He'd also developed a scar above his left eye.

"What happened?" asked Clint, brushing his finger across it.

Aidan shrugged. "Got in a fight. Guy started something so I shanked him with his own shank."

"I see. Going for the diplomatic approach."

Aidan laughed. "Man I missed you. You're a hotshot now, huh? Heading up your own black ops team?"

"The pay had better be good." added a male voice.

"Can't be worse than last time." laughed a female one.

Natasha watched the Howlett twins head over. Both had dark brown hair and hazel eyes that kept changing between brown and green depending on the light. That however was where the similarity ended. Joe Howlett was 6'2 and broad-shouldered. He looked like a walking wall of muscle. Nicky Howlett was 5'6, slender and smirked a lot. Clint ignored her and turned to the others.

"Hi, I'm Clint Barton."

"Conan O'Malley. This is Cian."

Conan was short but muscled. He had black hair swept off his face and light blue eyes, the colour of seawater. He had dark circles underneath his eyes and a hint of a smile. Cian was the same height as Joe, with the same pale skin and light blue eyes. However, his black hair was buzz-cut and he didn't look like he knew how to smile. He also had a funny way of looking at people, like he was calculating how best to kill them and leave no trace.

"I'm Grant Ward."

Grant was only nineteen but he was gangly, like he was still growing into himself. He was also incredibly serious with spiked black hair and dark eyes. He looked like he had a temper.

"Alright, let's go."

Clint led his group, plus Natasha, down to the wing set aside. Apparently there was a special name for the black ops team, the Ultimates. The door to their wing required a key card apparently. On entering there was a living room with black leather sofas and chairs and an open-plan kitchen, separated from the living room by a breakfast bar. The kitchen's cupboards were fully stocked and another door led to the bedrooms. They were all the same, a twin bed with a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. There was a door to a bathroom.

"And we share the main gym with everyone else. We do however have a specialist gym that only level 5 and over can access."

The level 5 gym was smaller with steel walls. Coulson had appeared.

"This gym is for people with special powers. We've been working on it for months. The techs have given us weapons as well. They worked very hard on it."

Coulson left and Clint turned to his team. "Alright, I'm supposed to know exactly what you can do for a meeting with the Director in two weeks. So just show off. I'll go first."

Clint turned and focussed on a weight in the corner. He narrowed his eyes and willed it to move. He managed to get up to the roof before he brought it back down. He telepathically told them he was a telepath and then lounged against the wall.

"Alright, Natasha next."

Natasha walked forwards and Aidan leaned back, glancing up at Clint. His brother looked tired, as if he had no more energy left to use. His hair was spiked with gel again and Aidan was sure there was a slight spark back in his eyes. Aidan had missed his brother's spark. Speaking of sparks, Natasha had just sent a bolt of sparks at the metal monkey bars. A current ran through them.

"I ain't touchin' that, fer sure." said Cian.

Nicky laughed. Conan was next up. He cracked his neck and turned into a wolf, a hawk, a bear and a lion. Then he turned back into Conan.

"Nice. Can you change your hair colour and shit?" asked Aidan.

Clint rolled his eyes at his brother but sent Cian up. Cian sent a flame whooshing round the room before he absorbed it back into his hands.

"I'm hot stuff."

He winked at Nicky as he sat next to Conan. Joe got to his feet, giving Cian an unimpressed look. He created a wave of water that mysteriously only soaked the Irish brothers.

"Dick." muttered Conan as he shook his head.

Nicky froze the water and created a ball of ice in her hand. Clint waved her down and shoved Aidan up. Aidan swore before creating a hurricane and floating around the room.

"I just rock."

"Grant."

Grant sent a blast of energy into the metal wall, denting them. Clint nodded and then gave them weapons. Natasha already had a pair of bracelets that channelled her electricity but Conan received a crossbow and Aidan got a pair of katanas. Joe got a Bo staff and Nicky got a pair of pistols, a sniper rifle and three knives. Cian was given two machine guns, five pistols and two knives.

"What do I get?" asked Grant.

Clint, who had acquired a bow and quiver from somewhere, glanced up.

"You get a standard handgun like everyone else, two knives and then you come with me to the lab rats."

"OK."

Grant turned and followed Clint. The older man led him through numerous corridors, greeting one or two agents before he stopped at a lab. He pushed the door open and walked in.

"Hey Doctor Shearing. This is Grant Ward. He needs the modified weapons you made."

Doctor Shearing, a pretty redheaded woman, smiled. "Sure. Right this way. We've provided extra devices for your team."

Clint nodded and Dr Shearing gave Grant a rifle. "Go to that section and fire the rifle."

Grant nodded and headed over to the section she'd pointed to. The walls were made out of some kind of special dark-grey material.

"They're equipping the gym with that material."

Clint asked, "What does it do?"

"It's a polymer compound of…"

Clint held up his hands. "Whoa Doc. Scroll back to English."

Shearing glared at him. "I am speaking English. The material absorbs the excess energy and doesn't catch fire or get destroyed."

"Awesome."

Grant squeezed the trigger on the rifle and a blast of energy shot out of the barrel.

"Holy shit!"

The pistol had the same effect.

"The guns enhance the energy's power. It's wonderful. We also have sunglasses since you shoot energy out of your eyes as well I believe."

"Yeah."

Shearing nodded. "If you put the sunglasses on and use the energy from your eyes the energy will travel down your body and exit via your hands. If you're using the guns at the same time the energy emissions will double."

Then they headed back into the gym. The group had moved onto sparring. Joe and Cian were hurling each other round, Nicky and Natasha were sparring and Aidan was fighting with Conan. Clint shrugged.

"Wanna spar?"

Grant mimicked his shrug. "OK."


End file.
